


The Terror of Vesuvia

by Bluestem



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Familiars, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s), Please Don't Take This Seriously, a murderous ginger, dear god, just for fun, more goddamn pomegranates, my friend's characters, this is gonna get real stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluestem/pseuds/Bluestem
Summary: Ginger is hell-bent on murdering Countess Nadia.  Can a ramshackle group of Apprentices stop him in time?  Will Asra hang around for more than five minutes?  Will Julian ever get over his self-imposed bullshit?  Will Muriel speak more than five sentences in a row?  Who knows?  Certainly not these unfortunate Apprentices!





	The Terror of Vesuvia

A small figure glowered out from the nest of rags it had gathered about it in the shade of a brightly patterned awning. Laden oxen lumbered by, their heaving breath sending clouds of dust glittering about in the midday sun. Creaking wagons smelling of cardamom, citrus, and cinnamon wafted into the figure’s nose, strong enough to momentarily drown out the pervasive reek of stagnant water and spoiled fish. Citizens of Vesuvia milled about, shopping and dining, or pausing to watch dancers swaying to the beat of a darbuka and jingling bells. The figure’s eyes narrowed as a child let loose a great shriek of laughter. Ginger hated children, _especially_ happy ones.

He stood, stretching his neck from side to side and took a step out into the throng. The sun lanced down atop a nest of curly red hair and he winced at the heat; it would be only a matter of minutes before he scalded like a lobster. He would have to be quick.

 _Nadia’s_ _maid usually comes into town no later than 11. Let’s see, let’s see, where will she stop first? The fruit stand? Probably the fruit stand. That bitch loves her pomegranates. Must be nice to be able to afford_ _pomegranates_ _every damn day of the year._ He grinned cruelly as he edged out into the open market square.

* * *

Tytos rubbed his eyes as he opened the door and inhaled the scent of...Myrrh. His face fell as he glanced down upon the step into the shop. Sure enough, it was heaped with small leather pouches filled to the brim with myrrh. Tytos sighed and bent to pluck the pouches from the stoop. Too hungry to bother with them, he dumped them all in the shop, wiped his hands together, and, placing a securing spell upon the door, he headed out. _With any luck, I’ll find Muriel and tell him to_ stop _leaving those here._

It was hardly eleven o’clock, but Tytos felt he could do with a drink. _Oh, maybe Fae will be at the Stumbling Ass. I know she’s been having a hard time with her Asra_ _too_ _..._ _m_ _ight as well commiserate together._

Lightly soled shoes padded across hot cobblestones and Tytos welcomed the heat and the lively sounds and scents. A gull flew overhead with a raucous cry, and he smiled up at it with shaded eyes. As more and more memories fell into place within his mind, Vesuvia had finally started to seem like home. He knew now that he and Asra had once saved the baker’s shop from a fire with a powerful water-spell, and that that was the reason for his lifetime supply of free pumpkin loaves. It was nice to have the stories behind the smiles that met him.

A sudden shout and the sound of fruit thudding to the stone nearby snapped him out of his musings.

“ _You again!”_ A familiar voice shrieked.

Tytos perked up, straining to peer through the crowd. He caught a glimpse of long auburn hair and a furious scowl. “Portia?” He hollered, squeezing through the throng of onlookers to find…

“Ginger!” he skidded to a halt in shock.

The small figure spun about, a vial of clear liquid clutched in his freckled fist.

“That’s the sixth time this month, Tytos!” Portia exploded, whacking her wicker basket into Ginger who hissed and darted to the side. “The _sixth_ time he’s tried to poison the Countess's pomegranates right in front of me, as if I wouldn’t notice!”

“Let the haughty bitch know that her time is _over!”_ Ginger yelled, and with a cackle he backed slowly into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

Tytos strode over and peered suspiciously into the narrow gap between the two buildings. Ginger was standing only a few feet away, as if the scant shadow itself would conceal him. “Do I have to put a restraining spell on you? For the hundredth time, leave Nadia alone!”

Ginger scoffed. “I’d like to see you try, Tytos, you frilly dock-scrubber!”

Tytos ignored the slight. “What’d she ever do to you to make you so determined to murder her?”

Fury twisted Ginger’s face as if the memory itself were a fresh and constant pain. _“She._ _Took. My. Emperor. Card!”_ Each syllable quivered with rage.

Tytos brought a hand between his brows and took a deep breath, trying to force down his exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, she took _all_ of our Emperor Cards, and then gave them back, no harm done!”

“The impudence of making me— _me!--_ chase after her stupid guards to get my _own card back_ _!”_

“Oh, give it a rest.” Tytos started back towards Portia, but hands upon his wrap brought him up short. Ginger had seized him with a curious look upon his face. Tytos studied him warily.

“Could that scent be...” Ginger breathed deep, his nostrils flaring, “myrrh? It _is_ myrrh!” He straightened up, looking frantically about like a cat after a bison-sized rat. “Muriel! Where is he, Tytos?”

 _I definitely need a drink,_ Tytos lamented to himself. “I think we’d _see_ him if he were here, Ginger. The man can’t exactly hide, can he? But do me a favor. If you see him, tell him to _stop_ leaving pouches of myrrh outside my shop. I tripped over them yesterday and nearly broke my neck.”

“Oh, _I’ll_ tell him alright.” Ginger grinned wickedly. “I’ll tell him all _sorts_ of things he can do-”

Tytos left before he could hear Ginger’s explicit Muriel-induced fantasies, and gathered up a few stray pomegranates. As he placed them in Portia’s basket, their eyes met and they mutely shook their heads. “I know he wants to kill mi’lady, but I swear Ginger will be the death of _me!”_ Portia sighed.

“You and me both.” Tytos hastily agreed. He straightened, patting her fondly on the shoulder. “Tell Nadia that I say ‘hi’, will you?”

“Will do, Tytos. And say hello to Asra for me?”

“Erm...well...whenever he gets back I will.”

“Ah.” Her face softened. “More ‘magic-secrets’?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” she shifted her basket and took Tytos’ hand. “I’m sure that whatever he’s doing, he’s doing to help you.”

“I know.” Tytos smiled glumly. He squeezed her fingers and turned into the crowd with a wave. “See you later, love.”

“Bye, Tytos!”

A few minutes of walking brought him to ramshackle building of cracked earth and sun-scorched beams. A cloth awning of purple, green, and gold fluttered in the light breeze off the bay. A wooden sign showing a stumbling, grinning donkey hung over the _Stumbling Asse’s_ lintel. Even at midday, candles burned in sconces sculpted into the plaster at either side of the door jambs, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood.

 _Maybe I can find some sanity in here_. Tytos walked in, vanishing immediately from the sight of any citizen who passed by the taverns door. Only a slight opalescent shimmering, like the skin of a soap-bubble, gave any hint that he’d ever been there.

* * *

Ginger skulked through the shadows, pausing here and there and inhaling as if he were trying to snort the cobbles from the street. _Damn it, it’s no good! Where is Muriel hiding?_ He paused, leaning up against the cool foundations of the nearest building with his arms crossed before his chest. He rubbed idly at his mouth as he considered his options. Either he could wait outside of Tytos’ shop for Muriel to stop by on his daily myrrh-pouch delivery, or he could fruitlessly search the woods for Muriel’s supposed hideout. He wasn’t as proficient at tracking magic as he would’ve liked, often tangling the energy of his intended prey with that of other magicians. _Well..._ _i_ _f I can’t, maybe Fluffels can._

Placing two fingers to his mouth, Ginger let loose a piercing whistle. Straining his ears, he could just make out the sound of little claws skittering against stone. The sound grew in his ears, and a suddenly a little creature skidded out from an alleyway, bunching and coiling like a spring as it leapt for Ginger’s shoulders.

“There you are, my lovely.” He grinned as the ferret nuzzled it’s whiskery snout into his ear. “I’ve got a mission for you.”

The ferret sat up, head cocked. _~A mission?~_

“That’s right! Follow the scent of myrrh and lead me to Muriel! Do it, and I’ll steal you some calamari.”

The ferret shivered with joy and bounced down to the street. It paused for only a moment, whiskers twitching as it inhaled. With a chattering squeak, it tore off, weaving down the alleyway like a furry snake. Ginger rubbed his hands together, hurrying after his familiar with a manic gleam in his eyes. _Ready or not, Muriel, here I come!_

**Author's Note:**

> Totally wrote this for my friends at work, as we're all obsessed with The Arcana. We were bouncing dumb ideas off each other, and this is what happened. This is gonna be dumb and fun. But mostly dumb.


End file.
